


Will you be my model?

by ALoafOfBread



Category: Mr Tricklebank, Original Work
Genre: Crack, Crack Relationships, Crack Treated Seriously, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Fluff without Plot, He's also hot, Hugs, Mr Tricklebank is extremely handsome, Painting, Reader-Insert, Romance, Teacher-Student Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-06
Updated: 2020-04-06
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:14:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23508214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ALoafOfBread/pseuds/ALoafOfBread
Summary: "My girl, what exactly are you planning here?” Tricklebank asked, bewildered at what you had prepared for him.You whipped around to face Tricklebank, beaming. Even in the semi-darkness, Jordan could see the pure excitement shining in the depths of your eyes.“I want you to be my model,” you said.~~~~OR~~~~Mr Tricklebank becomes your model. After all, what better to photograph than the love of your life? It ends up getting a bit messier than expected...
Relationships: Mr Tricklebank & Reader, Mr Tricklebank/Reader
Kudos: 2





	Will you be my model?

“Do you really think this is a good idea?” Tricklebank began hesitantly. “I’m not the most artistic person.”

Your hands were grasped tightly onto Tricklebank’s, your fingers entwined closely together as you pulled him into the room. 

“Oh, sure you are,” You started as you led the man towards the station that you'd set up. “I’ve seen the art on your Instagram account. Stop being so modest.” 

You had rearranged pretty much the entire classroom just for this occasion. White sheets of paper covered the majority of the room, spreading out over and hiding the hardwood floor and grey walls underneath. A camera stand along with professional photography lights stood near the edge of the class, placed precisely where you had wanted. The curtains were closed, casting a dark light upon the room. Nearby, various coloured cans of paint and paintbrushes sat waiting for them. 

“My girl, what exactly are you planning, here?” Tricklebank asked, bewildered at what you had prepared for him. 

You whipped around to face Tricklebank, beaming. Even in the semi-darkness, Jordan could see the pure excitement shining in the depths of your eyes. 

“I want you to be my model,” you said. You watched as Tricklebank’s expression morphed into one of surprise. Before he could utter a word, however, you continued. 

“It's for my digital art project. We have to incorporate paint and photography into some part of it. And I thought, what better to photograph than the love of my life?” 

Jordan had a mortified expression on his face. He had never done anything related to photography before, much less modelling. He opened his mouth, ready to turn you down. But… you just looked so excited. You had just about the biggest smile on your face. Your hands were clutched tightly together as you awaited Tricklebank’s answer. He knew he couldn’t say no to that face. You were just way too adorable to him, and he couldn’t bear to ruin the moment. 

“Oh alright,” Jordan let out an exaggerated sigh. He smiled, moving towards you and wrapping his arms around your waist. He pulled you close and leaned in to plant a small kiss on your forehead. You grinned, turning your head upwards and kissing the edge of Tricklebank’s jaw. “Love you,” You muttered, nuzzling your head into Jordan’s neck. You could smell the faint fragrance of his cologne. You took a deep breath, relishing the scent. 

“Anything for you,” Jordan replied back, the fondness evident in his voice. Damn, he adored his girl. 

You chuckled, pulling away and directing him to the centre of the cameras. Tricklebank obliged, standing there awkwardly as you moved around him, debating how you'd go about this. You moved towards the photography lights, flicking them on. Tricklebank blinked in surprise as sudden light flooded the room, enveloping everything in a white glow. He looked away, trying not to stare into the glare of the bulb. 

“Will you take your shirt off? I think it’ll add a nice touch to the finished photo.” You asked, barely paying attention to Tricklebank as you moved towards the camera stand and adjusted its height. 

Tricklebank gave a small nod, before quickly unbuttoning his shirt and throwing it to the other side of the room, where it landed limply on top of a chair. 

You looked up, ears turning pink as you took a few moments to appreciate your boyfriend’s incredible physique and strong frame. You walked over to him, reaching up and running your fingers gently over Tricklebank’s muscles. 

“Come on, you’ll have time to marvel at me” Jordan smiled in amusement. “Let’s get this going. It’s cold in here.” 

You blushed, feeling the heat rise to your face and turning you red. You bit your lip and nodded, reluctantly turning away from Jordan’s handsome figure. Jordan always felt a strange kick at seeming his girl blush. It was absolutely adorable to him. 

You made your way to the cans of paint. You dipped a few paintbrushes into them, one for each primary colour. You smirked, walking over to Tricklebank and flicking the brushes towards him. The paint flew off the bristles, splattering against Jordan’s bare skin. Jordan flinched at the sensation of wetness splashing onto him. 

“Woah! Hey, what’re you doing?” He exclaimed, surprised. 

“Well, they said paint had to be incorporated into some part of it so…” You trailed off, continuing to flick more paint onto the man and ignoring his protests. The colours landed all across Jordan’s frame, staining his skin and muscles with colourful pigments. 

“Remember the last time paint was involved?” Tricklebank said, thinking back to their intense paint war. “You don’t want that happening again, do you?”

“If I do remember clearly, you’re the one who lost.” You replied, a grin crossing your features. 

“Well…” Jordan trailed off, his expression morphing into one of mischief. “Not this time!” The man lunged at you, sweeping you up into his arms and lifting you above the ground. You gasped in surprise, letting out a small squeak. Tricklebank laughed, clutching onto you tighter. “Now we’re both covered in paint. Have a taste of your own medicine!”

“I hate you,” you said, but the affectionate and loving tone of your voice said otherwise. You giggled, leaning into Tricklebank’s touch, not minding at all the paint that stained your uniform. 

“I love you too, my girl.”


End file.
